


Eisheth Was Her Ancient Name

by hi_im_dazey



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Boy King of Hell Sam Winchester, But Rowena is not technically there, Dean is sweet and loving in the sack, Dom Sam, F/F, F/M, Just because it ended up that way, Like so mild no one in the story notices it, Mildly Dubious Consent, MoTW PoV, Past Rape/Non-con, Porn With Plot, Sam has some angst, Sex between Sam and Rowena, Some canon is ignored to make the environment for the story to happen in, Succubi & Incubi, This story is oral sex free, but you can squint and see it when you read it, dean is lonely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-03-20 06:00:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18986695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hi_im_dazey/pseuds/hi_im_dazey
Summary: A Succubus changes over the millennia, eventually becoming a transformed thing.Do not upload to another site. If you are reading this anywhere but AO3, you are supporting content thieves. You can read this for free from ANY device, without an app, paywall, ads, or tracking, on AO3 with a free private account. www.archiveofourown.org





	1. Chapter One – A Monster’s Epiphany

**Author's Note:**

> Work is completed, edited and ready to post.  
> One chapter every Monday  
> 27 May 2019 to 8 July 2019

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This installment introduces the "monster", she finds the boys in the next chapter.

Eisheth was her ancient name.

It had been a long time since she’d had a friend, but an even longer time since anyone had called her by her full name. If anyone had asked her or wanted to be her friend now, she’d have smiled and told them to call her Izzy.

She had no friends anymore. The others like her, the other succubi and incubi, had dropped her like a hot rock when she’d had her epiphany all those years ago.

The path to not killing victims or destroying them; not damning them to horrible lives and a secured seat in hell, had become clear to her one night as she watched her little coven of temptresses decimate the populace of a village.

She was supposed to be their leader, she was one of the oldest, after all. She’d been made by the alpha pair themselves, only moments after the Mother had created them. She should have been delighting in their revels. But as she sat in that small town in France so many centuries ago, watching as the festivities became increasingly naked and raunchy. She realized her disciples were no longer feeding out of a need for sustenance; they were draining the living force from these people and gorging themselves with sexual energy that they did not need.

Izzy had become sated on a single man she had found, a month ago, dreaming of the girl who had broken his heart years earlier. He had gone without physical touch or love for so long, he was the brightest beacon when she sent her spirit aloft to search for victims. She’d been warned not to go to the ones that were too bright, but he was the only one in that entire town who was showing any light at all.

She had gone to him in his dream and been who he wanted and let him do what he wanted with her. She had collected her due and found herself full, sated, as if she had drained a dozen men and women. She was astonished that she had not killed the man. The amount of energy he’d given her was enough to have done so. But he only seemed happy, relaxed, at peace; sated himself as if he’d been an incubus and had drained her instead.

A month later she still hadn’t felt the need to feed again. As she watched over her young coven, she tried to work up an appetite. On the surface of it all, she wanted the congress with another, the physical bliss of sex, the satisfying fullness in more ways than one. She still craved that closeness. But she just plain wasn’t hungry, and it seemed like it was silly to suck someone dry when she didn’t need to.

She’d returned to that lonesome man in spirit a few times to see if he was feeling any ill effects, but whatever she’d done with him that night, seemed to have healed his broken heart. He was no longer pining after the girl who had run off with his best friend.

He’d started interacting with his friends and returning to his work. He had even made courting a shy girl, the daughter of the owner of the shop across the way, a priority.

Izzy had avoided these brightest lights in the past, because her parents had told her their brightness would destroy her. But even now, she felt fine and full.

She had tried to explain it to her friends. They had scoffed at her and told her that wasn’t how it worked, they were the tormentors of humans. Not their healers. They were meant to drain as many as they could, set as many feet on the path to ruin as possible. Not mend broken hearts.

When she finally felt hungry again, two months had passed. She returned to the bright man, but saw he was now happy and planning to wed the slip of a girl across the way. Curiosity took hold and she stole a peek at the young thing and saw that she looked exactly the way his desires had morphed Izzy for their tryst. She smiled, so he hadn’t been desiring the source of betrayal, he’d been hoping that this girl would have him.

She was a creature of love and sex, she fed from it, to see humans in love and lust was like a little snack for her. She briefly considered following them to their pre-nuptial tryst in the woods and draining off their energy. New love was very delicious, and the energy to be had from early couplings was very nice. However, for reasons she did not quite understand, her new found understanding of her hunger, maybe, she left them in peace to sate each other and went to search for a new bright light.

She found another bright one the next night in another town. A woman this time, she was married to a man who did not take any care with her. He was not violent with her, but he never touched her with love. They had been married twenty years and he had done the bare basics necessary to cement their union before the eyes of god and man, and then robbed her of her child bearing years with never another touch or caress.

She cried herself to sleep from loneliness every night.

Before Izzy’s epiphany, she would have taken him, drained him, and sent his foot down the path to hell. Punishment for wasting this woman’s life when a simple act of being truthful with himself could have set them both free.

But now, Izzy felt that rather than punish this man for his lies, the better choice would be to help the woman. So that night she went to the woman’s dream and became exactly what she needed.

Izzy normally went for males because she tended to get a bigger hit of energy from them, this varied greatly among her kind, so when you had the luxury of choice you chose the human you could get the best meal from. But this woman, was so enthusiastic and … kind, that Izzy found herself full for almost a month and a half.

She returned to this woman a few times in dream state. Then she decided to make the commitment of using her corporeal form. So, one day she put on the visage the woman had required of her in their dream encounters, and “bumped” into her at the market. With very little effort, Izzy flirted her way to a beautiful afternoon tryst with the woman. She happily stayed with Margaret, at first clandestinely, and once the husband had passed, in a widow’s bond for the next fifteen years, feeding only on Margaret, very sparingly.

Once in corporeal form she could only feed off the person she had changed for. It was meant to be a quicker kill for most of her kind. Izzy soon found it was possible for her to live this way because the energy was freely given. The trick was not to drain, just to accept what was offered. When the woman passed, she left the earth happy and fulfilled. She left the world in love.

Izzy had no need of money, but the woman had left a small fortune to her. Izzy took the money and gave it to a home for orphans. Margaret would have liked that.

Over the years that followed she realized these brightly lit souls were calling out for her. Well, not her specifically, and not really a creature like her; just calling out for companionship, physical touch, relief from loneliness.

She often wondered why her parents had warned her away from them, why all incubi and succubi were told they were off limits. Centuries had passed since she had discovered that first man, and she’d had no ill effects. She sought out her Mother once to ask her, but all she said was,

“One day, daughter, you will find a light so bright it will ruin you.”

+++

            Izzy had been to the “new world”, as the Europeans called it, several times over the years. The landscape was thick with people who valued community and family. They took good care of each other. It was rare to find a bright light before the immigrants came. Her brethren often supped on the continent’s inhabitants before that though. Stories of them entered the mythos, draining men and women dry, making them crazy, sending them down bad pathways.

            Izzy however found her trips there fruitless until the European colonies started to become plentiful. They brought their ways with them. Lonely widows, widowers, jealous lovers, and people who feared their own bodies and the wrath of their God started to fill the Eastern Seaboard. Then the wave of bright lights started to bleed across the land.

            Izzy found she liked it there. So many humans, and other interesting beings. The types of demons she was used to had come with the Europeans, but the original people on this land had their own spirits watching over them. She found them fascinating. She’d tried to start conversations with the demons from Europe, only to have them flee in fear. They did tend to fear things that were older than them, she assumed this was why they fled from her.

The spirits that protected this continent however, well they would tell her stories and speak with her. They did not fear her and seemed amused that she did not fear them.

She learned the stories of this part of the Earth, they were not so different from the stories she was used to. The humans all had the same passions and ingenuity and foibles. So, the lore ran along familiar paths. There were entities to punish, to inspire, to trick, and to heal.

After a while she decided she would stay and see what became of this piece of land. Now that the sadness and loneliness of the people who did not know how to care for their “least of these” had spilled across the landscape, she fed well.

+++


	2. Chapter Two – Just a Sweet Snack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She finds them and decides to sample Dean.

Present Day

+++

Izzy drifted into a searching trance. Letting her inner spirit lift out of herself and drift across the land. Her last meal had only stood her for a month. She had been surprised that Alaska had not been a better source of desperately bright lights. She supposed maybe people who chose to live in remote areas might crave the isolation.

Even the large cities were a bust because of the isolation around them and the culture still prevalent from before the immigrants came. The people who lived in the population centers seemed to have a good sense of community, no one burned bright enough for her to get a good meal.

She had returned to the lower forty-eight. She sometimes found a good meal in Canada, but overall the contiguous states had the best source of food. She was partial to talking to the gods, goddesses and spirits on the islands in the ocean, too, but the feeding wasn’t as good. So many lonesome, affection starved souls, were burning up at her from the landscape of the mainland, it was irresistible.

Her range was only about two hundred miles around her, but it was rare in that radius for her not to find at least a dozen possible victims. She didn’t even really think of them as victims anymore. She had not killed, or run anyone to ruin, since her epiphany; only helped them. But she had the vocabulary of her kind and could not think of another word for them.

She stopped as her mind drifted over the farmland near her.

There was a bright light. She could sense it but not quite see it yet. It was partially obscured from her, like it was coming through a filter.

She had never seen any soul like this before. Izzy drifted closer. The feeling of it was immense. She knew that, without this filter, it would be the brightest light she had ever seen. She examined it closely. She now understood that there was protection and warding in the walls of the building. There was something in the flesh and bone of the soul’s owner as well. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to hide this person.

However, they had not specifically tried to hide this person from her.

She drifted closer to the source, sliding easily through the walls. She could feel the warding, it fluttered on her spirit like tiny butterflies. But they clearly had no power to prevent her entry.

She was shocked at how bright the light was once she was inside. What surprised her most, though, was the discovery that it was coming from two people.

The light was connected, there was a bond here. Most often this was seen with twins, or people who shared a soul. Her curiosity got the better of her and she split her vision to look at them both.

They were not a set of twins, but they were brothers, the bond they shared was secure. She did not see brightness from bonded souls often. That bond itself usually precluded the desperate yearning that made for a really good meal. Others of her kind loved to mess with bonded souls, they claimed the strife and infidelity of coming between such a bond made the energy much more delicious, and the ruin a quicker march to hell.

“You can’t imagine the thrill, Izzy, of turning one half of a soul bond to ruin so complete they murder their other half.” One of her old friends had told her. He had actually smacked his lips in satisfaction.

This was the first time she had ever seen such a strong bond throw up so much starvation for love. She retreated slightly, trying to decide what to do.

Just one of them would keep her fed for months. She should leave them and find another meal, though.

She had no wish to kill or cause ruin, and she was unsure if that was possible when meddling with such a bond. She certainly did not wish to leave these two to kill each other over some imagined slight because of her interference. Which was a risk if she took energy from both.

If she did choose to feed, she’d have to choose one. But which one was more in need of relief?

She drifted into the room of the one with the short hair and studied him. They were both pleasing to look at, but that did not really matter to her. Physical appearance was never really part of the equation. Pretty humans and plain humans, they all got lonely in the same ways. She poked into this one’s mind, she found a surface layer of creature comforts floating over some deep, deep waters.

He was only a few minutes into being truly asleep, so there were still some conscious thoughts spinning through him. He liked this bed. Having a comfortable bed of his own was a relatively new thing to him. He’d spent a good amount of money on the mattress, the soft jersey sheets, pillow cases and the cozy duvet and cover.

His mind was calming, but part of his brain kept checking to make sure he could still feel the weapon under his pillow where his right hand was wedged.

This was like a loop in his thoughts

_“…this bed is so nice…where’s my gun…I love these pillows…where’s my gun…”_

Oddly, this loop did not seem to concern him in the slightest; it was relaxing for him.

She dove a little deeper and found a thread of thought where he was lovingly planning out what he might want to eat tomorrow. She was largely unfamiliar with most of the things he was thinking about as food. She had not really paid attention to human comestibles since her widowed lover had passed on, she did recognize the pie though. Margaret had adored it. Izzy had even learned how to make it for her.

She went deeper searching for the source of his loneliness, this would help her decide which of these men would be the better meal.

At this depth, so much of his mind was full of nightmarish images. Blood and death and demons… but not in the way of a generalized fear that she found in most humans. No, he was remembering specific awful things he had seen and done.

All of this was run through with a thick, vibrant, tactile thread; the choking fear that his brother would die or leave him. This thread had a voice, a dark, deep gravelly voice… their father’s maybe?

_“watch out for Sammy, take your brother and run Dean, protect him.”_

She realized that these men were hunters of things like her. Though he seemed to have no knowledge of her specific species. This made sense since other incubi and succubi would have avoided their brightness.

Under this layer of blood, death, and protection was a thin and vague fear that he cared about his brother too much to be a functioning human. She punched her way through this, and then she came to his deepest desires.

This man, Dean, wanted a love on equal footing. He wanted someone who he could be honest with about his life. He wanted a girl with soft curves, and a height close to his own. He wanted someone who smiled a lot and laughed at his jokes and made him laugh just as much. He wanted someone who liked soft, gentle love making. He wanted a port of comfort in the storm of his life. He wanted someone to protect him the way he protected everyone around him.

He wanted it so much, so intensely, that she felt herself shifting into a form he would find pleasing without even really thinking about it.

Oh, he was one of the ones that was calling out to her… he needed this from her and she longed to give it to him. He was in so much pain, filled with so much desire. He wanted love so desperately, and he did not think he deserved it.

 _‘Well,’_ she thought, _‘one little taste.  A little “test snack” to try him out.’_

It would help her decide, and it might ease his pain.

She dropped herself all the way into his dream state, and curled herself into his bed, draping his left arm around her waist. Then, pressing herself against him and placing a gentle kiss against his lips, followed his train of thought as he began to drift into the scene. His thoughts took over and she allowed herself to be at his will.

In his dream, he held her and he kissed her, almost as if she was something sacred. Every touch and motion was full of wonder and reverence.  His hands skimmed over her like she might disappear if his touch was too rough. She, in turn, followed his silent bidding and ran her hands over his flesh, feeling the strength and warmth of his muscles through his soft skin. She found his hair was softer than it looked, and she loved the way his cheeks felt under her thumb when they rounded from his smile. Her mouth opened to the soft invasion of his tongue; the taste of him was like spice and whiskey and honey.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes were searching her face to make sure she was feeling what he wanted her to feel with every caress. When he rolled her onto her back and eased her thighs open with his own, she smiled up at him. He returned her smile with a look of pure joy, his eyes sparkled, his face lit with pleasure and love.

She felt a fleeting thought trip through his mind; for just a split second he realized this was oddly vivid for a dream and he did not know who she was… but it faded from him as soon as she whispered,

“Take me, Dean, give me what you have, all of it.”

He reached between her legs and parted her slit with his thumb, with a slow, soft pull from her opening to the apex, pressing firmly enough to gauge her reaction and know when he had found her sweetest spot.

She did not need a release to get her meal, but she found that the brightest lights were, almost without exception, generous lovers who cared that she felt good too. And, to be honest, the energy did last a little longer when the pleasure was reciprocated.

He rubbed, gently at first, and she let the feeling of it sweep through her. Her legs spread wider for him, and he pressed himself against her, the head of his cock resting heavily at her wet entrance. He pushed a little, spreading her lips apart and letting her juices cover his cockhead. She moaned, she could already feel the energy he was about to pour into her and she loved him for it.

“Yes, give it to me, Dean.” She did not command, nor did she beg. Dean would not find either option enticing, she knew he wanted equal footing here. So, she consented to take all he could give her.

This sent his cock pressing slowly into her, feeling every inch as he was encased in her perfect body. She felt so good to him, like she was made to fit him exactly in all the right spots. He drew back and gave her another long, slow thrust.

“That’s it…” she sighed as the feel of his thickness stretched her walls, she could feel his cock vibrating with energy. “Give it all to me…” she smiled up at him.

He continued to rub her clit in pace with his strokes. He watched her face, his eyes locked to hers until she felt herself … what was this? Was she blushing…? She often allowed a flush to fill her cheeks because men found that appealing, but something about the way Dean was looking at her made her feel shy and vulnerable and her ‘body’ blushed in response. This had never happened to her before.

He wanted everything from her, she felt her orgasm ratcheting up in intensity. This man wanted equal… he wanted everything he was going to give her and take from her reflected back on himself. He wanted to look into her eyes and watch her melt around him.

He felt her come undone around his shaft, the squeezing and fluttering of her muscles; he watched her gasp for air as her orgasm took over. Her eyes were still locked with his and he felt her tense all over as the wave finally crashed forward through her core. He kept working her clit and held himself still, buried to the hilt. He was loving the feel of her around him as she came. And when she relaxed and floated down from her high he swooped forward and wrapped himself around her, kissing her and pressing his chest against her breasts, enjoying her peaked nipples and soft flesh. Then he started to thrust in a strong, even rhythm, moaning incoherent words and grunts of pleasure.

It bothered him slightly that he didn’t know her name, and this started to distract him from his goal. She felt him start to drift away from his release. She feared losing him and did something stupid.

She poked her nickname into his mind. He immediately moaned, regaining his momentum and murmuring,

“Oh Izzy… I’m gonna cum…you’re perfect… I need you”

“Fill me up Dean, I’m all yours…I love you.” She did, too; she found that she loved all of her victims. They gave her so much and needed her, loving them was easy.

That declaration of love sent him over the edge, he lost control of his gentle motions and his hips took on their own pace, independent of his will, powering his cock into her.

He growled in her ear

“Take it all, Izzy… all of it. Please, it’s all for you”

She breathed out the thing he needed to hear the most, into his ear, and that sent him flying into his orgasm,

“You _are_ good.” His deepest desire was just to know that what he did was good. That someone saw it and loved him for it.

She felt him cum as if she were cumming again herself, she felt the vibration and throb of his cock as it poured into her. So much energy was flooding into her. She let out a keening moan as she took it all in, draining away his loneliness and need.

Holy fuck, this man was so delicious. Her “little test snack” had gotten way out of hand.

He collapsed next to her, panting and happy, he dragged her into his arms and spooned himself around her. He was humming happy little noises into her ear as he fell away from the dream, believing himself to be falling asleep. She waited until she was sure he was no longer in a dream state and melted away from him.

Giving him her name had been a mistake. She only did that went she meant to become the corporeal embodiment of herself and spend part of her life with a victim. She never gave out her ancient name, she could be summoned that way, bound, or possibly killed. She’d learn that the hard way, which was why she had used a nickname for so long. But even with her nickname, he would be able to call out for her, and she would feel it no matter how far she went.

+++


	3. Chapter Three – Meeting Others of Similar Interests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She checks on the boys and meets Castiel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week's chapter might be a day early or late, since I will be on a giant-ass flight followed by a hotel stay. I'm leaning towards early since it's ready to go and this chapter is a little quick, but we'll see.

She returned the next evening, only to check on him. She wanted to make sure she had not caused any harm to the soul bond. Not having ever encountered this situation before, she was worried about tipping the balance.

When she got close enough to examine the light coming from them, she saw that the light was just as bright. Izzy was concerned by this. Dean’s part of the energy should be lessened. She knew she had helped him. She came even closer to examine Dean specifically and saw that the light that came from inside him was eased, his pain and loneliness had been alleviated a considerable amount.

But the angst and misery of his brother was pushing into him.

This soul bond was so strong, she clearly did not have to fear breaking it.

Izzy’s mind exploded with the possibility that she might help them both. She stood watching over him, her mind racing with the idea that she could take turns feeding from them. She could make them content, ease their pain, and keep herself well fed for a very long time.

Dean moaned in his sleep and rolled towards her, his hand twitched against the bedding, then fisted around a corner of blanket,

“Izzy?” he murmured, his eyelids fluttered, as if they would open.

She floated back away from him, startled. There was no way he could know she was here. It spooked her; it seemed like he did know she was there, like he expected to open his eyes and see her.

She floated over to the brother’s room. She studied him, carefully, without actually going anywhere near his mind. The theory that she could just poke in and see what was up had gotten her into trouble last night, so she only looked at this one.

His room was neatly organized, his things meticulously arranged on his desk and nightstand. He had many books set about in well-ordered piles, some with colorful paper strips marking multiple pages. His walls were bare of decoration, and his furniture smelled of polish. Everything in this room was neat as a pin.

Everything but the occupant himself.

Sam was sprawled out diagonally across the bed, on his stomach, still wearing the day’s clothing. He had on jeans, and socks… one of which was hanging half way off his foot. He wore two tee shirts, a short sleeved one over a long sleeved one. His left hand gripping the hem of one long sleeve in a tight fist. She could see a bulge in his back pocket and knew he had his billfold still tucked in it. His hair was long, soft and spread out; hiding his face under a mop of messy waves the color of dark, cured, cinnamon bark.

A set of soft sleeping clothes were folded neatly on a chair next to him, and a large book lay open on the pillow behind his head. The lamp was still turned on, and soft music played from a tiny metal box near his hand, through a corded set of headphones.

She understood, now, that he had exhausted himself into sleep. There had been no “getting ready for bed,” this man had worn himself down until he passed out.

She felt an overwhelming urge to right his position, take the things from his pockets and set them on his nightstand. To mark his page and set the book on a pile, tuck him in and turn off the light, brushing the hair away from his face as she did so.

She could do none of these things, though, not in her current form.

She decided then that she would return here when she needed to feed again and take the younger brother. He needed her, she could feel it, she could see it.

Plus, his elder brother had been so delicious, she was sure Sam would taste just as good. Maybe even better.

She thought about traveling, visiting some of her favorite places, talking to fellow creatures and spirits. She was still learning so much lore from the native gods and demons of this land, even after all this time. Maybe she would travel south, now, revisit the gods of the Mayans. She had not seen them in a while. Something told her the meal she’d made of Dean was going to last her a good long time.

But as she contemplated the most interesting route, and things she might want to stop and see along the way, she realized she did not want to leave this place.

There was no reason to stay, she was sated for now. The area was a little flat, and boring to look at. Nothing much seemed to happen here. She floated around the edges of the building that protected the brothers, wondering at the strength of the pull they held for her.

She was curious why they were kept in this box made of protection. People like them, other hunters and relic seekers often had their homes warded or carried some form of portable protection. But this huge building was completely interwoven with spell work and wards and sigils. And it was old, this place had not been made for them, but there was something in their blood that made them belong here. So many others could have lived here as well. There was plenty of room. But it was only the two of them.

She wondered for a moment if they were also some sort of spirit kin. She could feel some magic around the area, but the wards diffused it so much she could not tell where it came from.

She thought about returning to her corporeal form and finding a place to stay the night. She could decide if she would go traveling in the morning.

As she started to pull her spirit back to her body, she saw a light that was entirely different approach the door to the building. It was pale blue and fluttered with a multitude of wing like shapes.

She swooped down on it, suddenly feeling very protective.

The thing jumped a little, and then the parts of it that were crammed into a human body, turned and looked right at her with deep, blue eyes.

Then she knew this was one of the things that had fallen from the heavens and littered the earth, not so long ago.

“Angel.” she hissed, so it could hear her.

“What are you?” It squinted at her, trying to discern her form. Its arm made a slight movement inside its wrinkled coat sleeve. All this being could see, of course, was a faint, misty cloud of energy. It had no human desires so there was no form her spirit self could take from its thoughts.

“Protection… do not harm my humans, Angel.”

“What sort of protection? Who are your humans?”

“The men who live here, I am watching over them. Do not harm my humans, Angel.”

“I would never harm them.”

“This is a lie, I can feel it. You have harmed them both already.”

The Angel’s face fell, some of its bravado fading.

A wave of shame washed out from it. She felt sorry for it.

“I feel that you regret these things though. I will not allow you to harm them further, Angel. But for now, you may enter.”

“But what are you?” It asked again.

She drifted away and did not answer the creature. She had been foolish to speak to it, to forget it would be able to discern her presence. The reputation of her kind would do her no favors if she answered this question.

Eventually Cass gave up trying to get an answer from her. He couldn’t feel any menace, the thing only felt protective and loving to him.

He was concerned, but it did not surprise him that a supernatural entity had decided to look out for the Winchesters.

After all, he had.

She spread her form out over the building and stood guard overnight. Wary of leaving while this thing was with the brothers. The Angel did not even try to wake them, it only walked the halls, checked on them both and then set itself, stiffly, on the edge of a bed in one of the other rooms. It sat there, watching that machine that showed moving picture stories, that Izzy could never remember the name of, until dawn.

+++


	4. Chapter Four – An Oral Tradition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an encounter with Sam she decides to ask some questions.

When Sam stirred just after dawn, he left the building and he started to run, at first, she was worried that the Angel had threatened him, and he was in fear for his life.

Then she remembered that in this time, humans ran for fun and exercise. She watched him speed up the road.

Izzy decided she had been out of her body long enough. Plus, Sam was heading in a direction along a wooded path where he might stumble upon the empty corporeal shell she had manifested for use while she was here.

She fell into her flesh and walked back to the main road.

When she got to the little town she found a bed at the local inn, using a small glamour to charm the innkeeper out of a key.

She rested for a few minutes, but, eventually she found she was curious about pie. She had started thinking about it earlier when she was drifting around their home. Dean seemed very fond of it. As had her dear love, Margaret. While she had learned to make it, she had never eaten it. Human food was edible to her kind, but it did nothing for her. It neither gave her sustenance or mass. She could taste it, but she had the feeling it tasted much better to humans than it did to her. It had been thousands of years since human food had passed her lips.

Now as she lay on the bed, the happy moans of satisfaction that Margaret would make when Izzy had served her a fresh slice of her favorite treat echoed through her heart. Dean’s near obsession with the pastry resonated in her head.

Less than ten minutes later she was at the tiny diner attached to the inn. She used her charms on the waiter and said in the sweetest tone, forcing her will on the man,

“You’re not going to believe this, but I have never had pie before.” Her voice was smooth and mesmerizing. A free slice of pie filled with something called “boysenberry” and a cup of that hot, dark brown, bean extraction were brought to her.

She took up a fork in her left hand and delicately shaved a bite off the tip of the pie.

The waiter watched her, fascinated, as a juicy, glossy, glob of glazed berry, with a few bits of flaky pastry stuck to it, traveled to her plump, soft, red lips. Her mouth opened, her tongue coming out of her mouth slightly, the tines of the fork resting on the wet pinkness. Her lips closing around the entire bite. She slid the fork from between her lips, as her eyes closed. She moaned, quietly, around the flavor that now exploded on her tongue.

The last time she had tried the humans’ food, it had been a portion of unleavened bread. This was so much better.

The waiter felt a tightening in his underwear, he groaned, softly, watching her take another bite… it was like porn to watch this chick eat. He was transfixed.

Every bite after the first was followed with a slow, deliberate lick of the fork. The wet flesh of her tongue was the sexiest shade of pink he’d ever seen. The fork shining silver and bright pressed into her and he thought about ways to mark her while she begged beneath him for release. Her eyes closing each lick and a wash of pleasure flushing her cheeks. He thought about that expression on her face as if she were working her mouth over his cock instead of the fork, and almost came.

When she was left with only a blob of pie filling on her plate she scooped it off with a finger. She then performed a long, slow, cheek-hollowing suck of her finger, followed by a swirl of her tongue to clean the fruity mess off her flesh. He shuddered, feeling like just to touch her would grant him an exquisite release,

“So,” he said, his voice breaking slightly, like he was a damned teenager, “What do I get for a free slice of pie, sweetheart?” He leaned in to her, leering. His hand creeping close to her delicate wrist.

She knew what he wanted. It was her very existence, after all, to know when people desired contact of a sexual nature. But since she did not require energy she opened her mouth to glamour him into forgetting she was ever there.

Then another voice, a man’s voice, gentle, but containing a steeled core of warning, came from over her head.

“Here.” A massive hand came around her shoulder and dropped six dollars and twenty-seven cents on the counter next to her plate. “That should cover it.”

If there was one thing Sam Winchester knew about this diner, it was how much a cup of coffee and a slice of pie cost with a twenty-percent tip.

“Now lay off the poor lady and let her drink her coffee in peace, Joe.”

Joe looked abashed, he could not think what had come over him. Sam was right to give him such a shaming look. Joe shook his head to clear it and scooped the money up. Then he made himself scarce and let Ellie get Sam his morning usual.

Izzy knew the ways of men well enough to know that Sam expected her attention now for “rescuing” her.

But as she turned to thank him, he only waved her off with a slight smile and found a seat at a booth in the corner. He sat with his back to the wall, reached into his sweatshirt pocket, and took out a small paperback book. Then he plugged his headphones back into his ears and started reading.

Izzy’s jaw dropped open. She had never seen a man aid a woman without expectation before. He had seen someone behaving in a way he felt was not right. He had corrected the problem with minimal effort and conflict, and then gone back to his day as if it was nothing he hadn’t done a million times.

She felt her fascination with these men grow. A killer who dreamed of soft things and pie, and this broken mess who would care for a stranger’s needs before thinking to take care of himself. 

Now that he was away from the warded building, she could see that he was coated in magic, too. There was something in him… she could not quite see it… it felt like parts of demons and angels were mixing in his system. Just faint traces, like parts had been left behind in him. Protective warding thrummed across his skin from the left side of his chest, radiating out, and there was something from The Angel carved into his ribs, that vibrated another protection out across his bones.

Who were these men and why had so many spirits come together to protect them? She did love a good mystery. She decided she would ask some of the local spirits and gods about them.

That evening she sought out The First Girl of the Chatiks si chatiks. Izzy did not know if the girl had a name besides this designation, but since she never gave her ancient name to anyone either, Izzy did not press her for it.

The First Girl was very beautiful, she radiated love and peace, but there was a fierceness in her that occasionally frightened Izzy. She had long dark hair, the color could best be described as stars sprinkled across the deep night sky, her eyes were the blue black of obsidian and seemed to have stars moving in them.

She had let her spirit float to The First Girl’s favorite perch, overlooking the farms and fields, near her home. They greeted each other warmly, this was not their first tryst to discuss how odd humans were.

“May I ask you about these men?” Izzy flashed their images into The First Girl’s mind.

“Oh, the Vessels.” She responded. “What do you want to know?”

“Vessels? For what?”

“The spirits of the immigrants have many forms. There are Angels and Demons and ranks of both.”

“I remember.”

“Well Angels and Demons can both enter humans to walk the earth. There are two of a rank of angels called Archangels, one named Michael who rules the host of their heaven, and one named Lucifer who is fallen and rules the demons in their hell. These men are meant to be the human hosts for these angels.”

“Oh.” This would explain why they lived with such protection. “The humans are keeping them safe for The Angels’ use?”

“Oh no… not at all. The immigrants are odd, they do not actually believe in their stories. Most of them anyway. These men do. They know their purpose and turned their backs on it. The Angels cannot take their vessels without permission and they meant to end the world with a war using these men’s bodies. And these men tricked them and locked them away.”

“Oh!” Izzy was surprised mere humans could do this against such powerful beings.

“Yes, they are very powerful, in their own right. The tall one is said to have feasted on demons. And the older one walked the earth with his very soul turned demon and lived to be human again. Both are rumored to have escaped their Hell; the tall one even rescued another soul and ferried it to their Heaven. Many legends have been told of them. Even now the demons’ spirits are restless, because of the tall one.”

“Why?”

“He declared himself the King of their hell, and then did not go take his throne.” She giggled. She loved a good trickster-god story, and this was how she regarded this particular antic. “The demons are confused by his declaration and neglect, but they fear him so much, none of them have dared demand he preside over his court.”

“He declared himself the king of Hell?!?!” Izzy was shocked, nothing she had seen of, or felt from, Sam had made her think he could do such a thing.

“Yes, he convinced the last true king of hell to kill himself and destroyed the next few who briefly claimed the throne. Then when a new demon tried to claim the throne, the tall one killed the presumptive heir, then declared there would be no new demon king, and anyone who wanted to try, must kill him first. The demons were all in a fluster over it. None dare challenge him, yet he will not take his throne. A few of them considered approaching him, but so far none of them have been brave enough.”

“What stories do you know about the older one?”

The First Girl smiled, stars twinkling in her eyes.

“So many…” She loved legends and sharing them, and Izzy was an excellent audience.

The evening hours melted away as The First Girl told Izzy all the stories she knew about the Winchester brothers.

“The place they live is the house for the Men of Letters, this name is funny to me since my children are the Chatiks si chatiks which means the Men of Men…” she giggled a little and then sobered, her eyes growing wide and her voice taking on a hint of drama as she started, “Some time ago, not far from here, there was a woman killed by a demon…”

+++


	5. Chapter Five – A Small Choir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A discussion between Cass and Eisheth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well my trip found me in a spot with NO wifi or 4g service to tunnel with yesterday so this one is a day late, sorry about that.

The next morning Izzy left her body and drifted over to her humans, her mind was brimming with fantastic tales. She couldn’t even believe half of them, and that’s saying something when you yourself are a fantastical thing. She was surprised to find they were not there.

She was startled by the Angel flying up to meet her. She gathered herself in a vaguely human shaped cloud of energy.

“Angel, where are my humans?”

“Uhm, they’ve gone to hunt something.” Castiel was unsure how much this entity understood about Sam and Dean.

“Ah, demons and monsters. These things they have gone to hunt, yes?”

Castiel’s eyes widened. How long had this thing been watching them? It can’t have been too long, the thing had seemed surprised to find an Angel coming here.

“You did something to Dean, didn’t you?”

“How do you mean, Angel?”

“He seems less angry, calmer somehow. His soul is in less pain. I can feel the change.” It said to her.

“I healed a part of him, a part inside. It makes me glad to know he is better now.” The thing before her could not see it, but it felt the change in her that was her smile.

“But you did not help Sam? He is a worthy man, but broken in more ways than Dean… why do you say you are here to protect them, but you have not helped Sam?”

“In truth, Angel, I did not know at first which needed my help more. I agree with you, Sam probably needs my help more, but I cannot help anyone like that again for a little while.” She was silent for a moment and then said, “I must recharge, in a way.” She tried not to be too specific, the Angel might figure out what she was.

After a moment she asked the Angel,

“You have not told them about me. Why?”

“I was going to, but then I felt Dean’s change, and wondered if them knowing would cause issues for them. Please, tell me what you are, and what you did to him.”

“I cannot… I do not have a word for what I am now, and I am no longer the thing I was. But I intend only to heal them and keep them happy and safe as far as I am able. I cannot explain to you what it is I do. Just know that it will only help them.”

“Can you at least tell me why?”

“I was drawn to them, they called out to me with their need.”

“Do they know they called out to you? I mean, did they summon you?” The Angel asked.

“No, they do not hold the power to do that yet, some day, I might let them summon me at will.” She admitted in a thoughtful tone. “But for now, no, their need called out to me, but they did not summon me on purpose.”

“I’m not sure I understand all of this. You’ve explained nothing of your origins, and I worry there will be some price later they cannot pay.”

“Keep my secret long enough for me to help Sam. Please. After that do what you will, Angel.”

Castiel considered this. Dean’s soul felt so much lighter, yet nothing of him, that Cass could feel, was missing. She had not altered him in any way, she’d only eased a large amount of pain and lowered the crippling levels of guilt and strange yearnings Cass did not understand, that his friend had been buried under for years.

Cass had caught Dean humming and whistling while he made breakfast. And he’d smiled with genuine joy, instead of his normal strained-with-worry half smile when Sam had returned from his run. It was like he remembered, suddenly, that he loved his brother, and wasn’t just his brother’s protector.

Sam had flicked a suspicious look Dean’s way, which was when Castiel realized that whatever the entity had done to Dean, she had not done to Sam.

Sam was still radiating fear, guilt, and anxiety.

 She knew that what The Angel could not put his finger on was the physical and emotional loneliness that she’d removed from him. It couldn’t figure out what she had specifically altered to affect the change in attitude, because The Angel had no frame of reference for it.

He’d had sex when he was briefly human, and he’d felt an attraction to Meg. But Angels were not creatures that felt a sexual longing or craved touch. They were all part of a cosmic energy that was always with, and in, and around them.

Pining away for other entities was not something he could ever understand or see in those around him. Love he felt, of course. That he felt too much love for humans had been thrown in his face many times by other Angels. But he did not feel lust, he did not miss people or touching others. Because he was connected to all the universe in a way that could not be described, he never truly felt lonely.

That Sam and Dean were lonesome and felt disconnected from other humans had never occurred to him. Because Angels were connected to everything.

He turned to her and said,

“I will agree to those terms. But, can you at least tell me what to call you? Do you have a name?”

“I do, Angel, but it is a way to summon me, and I guard that secret completely and with great care. Besides, Angel, you have not given me your name, and I suspect it’s for the same reason.”

“My name is Castiel. Sam and Dean call me Cass. It’s a “nickname” apparently.” He said without hesitation.

He waited to see if this offering of knowledge would be reciprocated.

“I will allow you to call me Margaret. This is not my name, or my “nickname”, but I understand you need to have a name to call me.”

This mixture of honesty and dishonesty struck Cass as a little odd, but if she was susceptible to summons by anyone with her true name, he supposed he could not fault her for her caution.

“When will they return, Castiel?”

“Later tonight I believe. They are waiting for me, now. I told them I would meet them at the hunt.”

“I will return later, then.” She said, and she spread herself out and drifted high into the air, he watched her spread thin over the sky.

Then he left, flying to the meeting point.

She returned to her body when she saw him leave. Her mind was brimming with so much new information.

+++


	6. Chapter Six – A Feast Fit for The King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's on the Menu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut + a Good night's sleep for Sam.  
> Enjoy.

The energy she took from Dean lasted her four months. She spent those four months watching them. She began to realize, after about a month, that The First Girl had not made up most of the stories she told. She found herself entranced by the Winchesters. These men had given up so much of themselves to save their people and their world.

The thing that broke her heart was that the only thanks their universe had given them was this protected building to call home; a place that further cut them off from other humans.

She saw that colleagues and acquaintances came by when they needed help with hunts. But she now understood that most of the people they counted as real friends were dead.

They trusted The Angel, Castiel, for the most part. Sam more so than Dean. Dean still nursed feelings of betrayal and distrust towards The Angel. Sam seemed to have a capacity to forgive that was amazing to her. Dean was mad about things The Angel had done _to_ Sam, but Sam held no grudge at all.

The only tale The First Girl told her, that she continued to doubt, was that Sam had declared himself the King of Hell. If either of them were aware of this, they made no mention of it. She had come to understand them well enough to know that Dean would tease Sam relentlessly about this if he’d known about it.

Once her hunger returned she decided to let it build for a while. Her instincts told her just being a little peckish would not help Sam. So, she waited until feeding was all she could think of.

She needed to be ready to take as much of his need as she could. Over the last four months the light had gotten brighter because Dean had started to feel the loneliness again. But still the lions’ share of it was coming from Sam.

When she arrived in his room after he’d fallen asleep, she started to push into his mind, gently.

The pain surrounded her immediately.

Sam, unlike his brother, did not have a layer of comfortable surface thoughts covering his pain.

Sam was pain, all the way down.

The only thing that wasn’t darkness was a soft, incandescent thread of kindness and empathy for others; a kindness that he clearly did not believe he himself deserved from the world in return.

Her heart ached for him. She pushed deeper into his mind hoping to figure out what he needed from her. It was hard because the pain was very real. It sliced into her spirit. It was like walking naked through a tunnel of razors.

There was pain from his childhood, neglect, abandonment, guilt… he felt guilty over his mothers’ death, but he also felt betrayed by her. He felt the same mixture of guilt over his father. For Dean he felt fear and love and betrayed and protected… his regard for his brother was complex and encompassing.

Then she found the source of his deepest need.

He needed to control.

So many times, in his life, his will had been taken from him and corrupted. Starting with being the payment for his mother’s demon deal, the addiction to that blood that had twisted him into a monster, being tricked into starting the apocalypse, being trapped and raped and used by Lucifer for so long; his soul stripped away from him. His own brother had… she recoiled from this betrayal when she found it… Dean had forced him to accept an Angel’s possession.

So many things had wrested his free will and control away from him. His deepest desire was to have control. To be in command.

His desires started to permeate her spirit form, she found herself small and delicate, the desire to be submissive to his will, completely, flooded through her. There was one woman, in particular, that he found aggravating, bossy, beautiful, and fierce. He wanted her to submit to him. He wanted to cause her pain and pleasure and make her beg. Izzy became this woman in an instant once she found this part of him.

He wanted this woman because she was a monster, like he was. Izzy saw that mostly he’d spent himself, in his scant trysts, on other monsters. He didn’t think he had a right to push his darkness on human women, they were innocent, and he had to protect them from the Bad Things.

He was a Bad Thing.

A Freak.

He was lying on his side with his arms over his head. She positioned her arms, so her wrists were in easy reach; he’d want to hold her still. He would want to rule over her completely.

She sighed the thing that was at the center of his desires into his ear,

“I am yours to command, My King.”

A deep, possessive growl rumbled out of his throat, and he entered the dream with his whole mind and spirit. His large hand tracing the skin of her wrists for a moment before grabbing both, in one massive hand, so firmly, that she felt the delicate bones grind a little.

In a fierce grunt, he breathed into her ear,

“You’ll do as you’re told.” It was not a question. It was an edict.

“Yes, Sir.” She responded.

He watched her face and saw she had a slight smirk of defiance still. Even now when she was at his mercy, she still could not resist challenging him.

Izzy understood he wanted complete submission from this woman, but he also wanted to take it from her; to fight her for it and win.

He looked her in the eye, his free hand drifted to her breast. He took her nipple between his strong fingers and gave it a vicious pinch, twisting and pulling on it until she squeaked.

“You will do what you are told.” He repeated, stressing each word with further torturous manipulations of her hard, reddened nipple.

“Yes, Samuel.” Her eyes closed.

He slapped her other breast hard enough to leave a stinging, hot handprint and grabbed her chin.

“Look at me,” He shook her slightly, “Only me. You will only ever look at me.”

Her eyes opened, she looked into his, they were burning with desire and possessiveness.

“What do you call me… what did I tell you to call me? Say it!”

“My King.”

“And why do you call me that?! Say it!” He lowered his head to her nipple and gave the abused one a soft suck, followed by a painful scrape of teeth. She sucked in a breath, feeling the sensation all the way to her pussy.

When she did not answer right away he scraped again, his teeth firmly scoring her flesh. Then he lifted his eyes and watched her face as he demanded…

“Tell me why you call me your King!”

“Because…” She paused as he shifted so her legs were forced apart by his hips. This form he’d desired of her was so small, she was sort of worried he wouldn’t be able to fit his massive girth into her. She realized now he had had this dream many times without her there. He knew what he wanted from this woman and how he planned to take it.

She felt the tip of his cock splitting her open. He stopped his movement completely and commanded her,

“Say it!”

“Because I belong to you. I am yours to do whatever you want with. You are My King.”

He grabbed her and flipped her over, dragged her by her hips so she was ass up and completely open to him. Her long, red curls sliding over the sheets above her head as she turned her head to the side, so she could follow his command and keep looking at him.

He made an appreciative growling hum at this vision before him, he wanted her like this, offering herself up to him. Acknowledging his ownership of her, eager for him to pour his darkness into her. For a moment he realized that this familiar scene was somehow different, the dream felt more real than it ever had.

His gaze made her eager, he looked so hungry, she wiggled invitingly at him and was rewarded with a harsh spank.

She moaned exactly how he wanted her to. Her pussy was lined with wetness, eager for his invasion. Why was he waiting?

He reached down and squeezed the reddening handprint he’d marked her with. Pain coursed through her, increasing her arousal.

“My King, please.” She begged

Something was wrong, and Sam was feeling a little disoriented. This seemed so much more real than normal.

But before him was the view of how he knew she’d look when he finally got her to bend to his will, and he gave in to enjoying it.

He slid a finger into her, her pussy grabbed and clutched at the intrusion, coating it in slippery warmth. He slowly pulled the finger out and slipped it forward to find her clit, his fingernail scraping along the soft wet flesh. He rubbed her clit gently for a few strokes and then pressed his thumb into her, in a sharp, thick thrust. She moaned, and her eyes closed, earning her another painful slap on her ass.

“Keep them open, only look at me!”

She opened them again. Her neck twisted so she could see him out of the corner of her eye.

He took the two slick digits and used them to pull and pinch her most sensitive nub of flesh. He started slow and gentle, but quickly grew rough and punishing.

“Do you want me to make you cum, _my_ little girl?”

“Yes.”

SMACK!

“What do you say?”

“Yes, My King!”

SMACK!

“What do you say?!” he pinched her clit harder

“Please make me cum, My King!” she keened, begging for it.

“Who owns you?”

“You do, My King!” she was rewarded with two fingers splitting her open, while his thumb rubbed her over-sensitive clit.

She felt the pleasure building in her womb, he spread his fingers apart, stretching her tight muscles. He found the spot on the inside of her where friction made her squirm and pant, and he took full advantage of it.

“Who owns your body?” he demanded, stilling his movements to make her whimper for more.

“You do, My King.”

“Your Soul?”

“It’s yours, My King.”

“When you cum, who do you cum for?” the commanding tone in his voice slipped a little, this request was tinged with a note of vulnerability.

“Only you, My King, forever.” With this sentence spoken aloud, she submitted herself so completely, to his deepest desire, that she was pushed over the edge. Waves of bliss pulsed through her. She sighed and moaned,

“My King, I am yours, all of me, for all time.”

While she still throbbed with her orgasm, he buried his hard cock in one powerful stroke. She gasped, he was huge, thick, and so solid that her walls ached with it. He leaned forward and nuzzled her, making tiny, sharp bites at the junction of her shoulder and neck. A thick mewl of submission was pulled from her throat. This sound satisfied him, greatly.

“Mmmm always so perfect and tight and desperate for my cock, Ro,” he chuckled in her ear, then grunted as he lifted her up and slid himself down, so he was kneeling, resting his ass on his calves, her legs splayed open, straddling his thighs. He reached forward and returned his violent attentions to her nipples with one hand, and her clit with his other.

She could no longer follow his command to look at him, so she allowed herself to close her eyes and enjoy the ride. When he realized she wasn’t looking at him and that her eyes had closed, he growled.

Then he tore his cock from her and pressed his fingers into her shoulders. She found herself flipped and pinned on her back in one quick motion, her hands were pinned over her head by some invisible force. He grabbed her hips with bruising strength and he plunged back into her cunt with a violent stroke of ownership.

“Look at me! You only ever look at me! You’re mine! Do you understand?” His growling increased, his thrusts speeding up.

“Yes, My King, only you…”

He leaned forward and locked his eyes on her and watched her face melt into complete submission to his will. Her pupils huge, her will totally given over to him. Her face a perfect mask of lust for him.

“Mine!” he grunted, his cock swelled a little more inside of her, his thrusts becoming brutal.

“Yes, My King. I am yours.”

“MINE!” he shouted with a final powerful thrust. She felt the darkness in him flowing into her. So much dark… the orgasm ripped through her, she drained the energy as much as she could. He felt so good, and his mind continued to throb with the joy of winning total domination with each pulse of his twitching cock.

She sighed with deep satisfaction. She had guessed correctly, he was delicious.

He was all darkness, night sky, unconditional love, and somewhere, under all of that was a faded memory of the taste of smoky-sweet demon blood.

As the energy pulsed slowly to an end, the flow ebbing. He crashed down on the mattress, dragging her to him. His arms locked tight around her, his hands splayed over her flesh.

“Mine. Always mine.” He mumbled into her ear. Giving her a possessive squeeze. This tryst had made him all the more fascinating to her, since his deepest desire was for someone who knew he was a dark, twisted mess, and loved him anyway.

“Samuel?” she whispered after a few moments, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“mmm?”

“What are you the King of?”

He laughed with a lazy bitterness, so weary of the truth of his life, and said,

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you, Rowena? I’m The Boy King of Hell.”

So, he did know he was meant to hold the throne in their hell. How odd to find he claimed a throne he had no intention of sitting on. He seemed to think it was some horrible joke, like the punchline to his life.

The nagging realization that Rowena would already know that, made Sam wake slightly. He found his arms empty. But for some reason, this time, realizing it had just been a dream did not make him sad.

He felt sated and happy, instead. He flipped himself over and fell back asleep. He slept for a good nine hours and woke up feeling fantastic.

+++


	7. Chapter Seven – Trust Issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last little bit at the end.

 

Izzy returned the next night to check on them, and their bond. She was pleased to find it was still solidly connecting them, and that Sam’s pain and loneliness was greatly diminished.

Castiel approached her,

“Margaret.” He said to get her attention.

“Hello Castiel.”

“I noticed that you helped Sam.”

“I did.”

“Now what will you do?”

She thought about this. She could not become corporeal for them. She could tell that Sam was in love with this woman he desired, she existed in his life, so Izzy could not become her or take her place. She could only hope that eventually he would win her love in return.

She supposed she could become corporeal for Dean, but somehow, she did not think he was ready to let someone share his life. He was so very protective, the thought of someone he loved getting hurt drove him to extreme measures. One of which was refusing closeness and commitment.

If she became corporeal for Dean she would stay with him, bonded and feeding only from him until he died. She’d be unable to heal Sam if he needed her again.

She resolved that she would just return from time to time and check on them, feeding from whichever was feeling the most need for touch and release.

She told The Angel only that she would return when she was needed, when their pain was too much to bear, she would come and ease it,

“But,” she added, “I expect you to watch over them. Take good care of my humans, Angel, or I will show you my wrath.”

She didn’t really have much in the way of wrath, but she liked the sound of the threat, and she could feel that The Angel still feared her a little.

“Of course.” Cass said.

She looked at him, contemplatively, then said

“Castiel, if you have need of me, for them. You may summon me.”

Then she enveloped him and whispered to him that Eisheth was her ancient name.

“Are you a…” He looked shocked, recognizing her name, and realizing what she was.

“I was,” she interjected, stopping his question.

Her mind was consumed by the way Dean had made her blush in earnest with his attentions; the aftertaste of Sam’s delicious darkness still flooding her senses,

“But now I am ruined.”

She drifted away, Cass could feel that she was smiling with a gentle sadness.

Castiel kept her secret.

+++


End file.
